


MEYN MAN

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Vienna Blood (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, M/M, Physical hurt/comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, Remorse, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22208470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: Max and Oskar are each attracted to the other, but neither knows. Circumstances create a chance dark situation.
Relationships: Max Liebermann/Oskar Rheinhardt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	MEYN MAN

Oskar Rheinhardt was becoming more annoyed with his friend Max Liebermann, and also increasingly frustrated. That, together with the fact that von Bulow had been making his job and therefore his life miserable for some months, was a dangerous combination.

When he and Else had been a family with Mitzi, he was fairly easily able to bury his inconvenient truth. He was content as he was, he enjoyed making love with his wife, and that was all that was to be said. But after Mitzi died and he and Else completely fell apart, he was forced to question his definitions of love, family, happiness and contentment.

Before he’d met and courted Else his sexual partners and his relationships, such as they were, had been with men more than they had been with women. Until he’d met her, he’d been most comfortable and felt his greatest pleasure in bed with men. He knew very well how society viewed this, and he also knew it was an extremely inappropriate and dangerous proclivity for a policeman, yet he was unable to stop it; he simply didn’t want to stop. It was a part of him, dangerous or not.

When Else had come into his life he had truly fallen in love with her. She gave him pleasure in bed and he gave pleasure to her in return. Mitzi made their life complete - or so he’d thought. But her death had revealed the cracks in their relationship and the illusion of a happy life. Once she had left him, the old desires returned.

It had not been too much of a problem to keep away from the meeting places or the private clubs he knew so well at first - after all, it would mean losing his profession, his identity, as well as his livelihood, if he were caught. The more time passed, however, the greater his hunger became. It was, surely, about physical gratification. It was also about more than that of course.

Enter Doktor Maximilian Liebermann, the young, well-to-do, handsome Jewish physician-in-training with an infuriatingly smug manner and an impressive record of being able to help him solve cases. Young enough to be his son, Max was whip smart, suffered no fools, had no faux reverence of authority for its own sake, and was shockingly attractive. They shared interests in art, music, humanity, and the state of the world. He liked Max, and also liked his kind, intelligent and honourable father. 

The trouble was, he had also begun to be attracted to him, physically and emotionally. His cologne, his pomade. His hands, the knowing devilment in his eyes. The soft, sensitive mouth. It had gotten to the point that he could hardly bear to be in his company, especially alone, and Oskar had begun to make up excuses to avoid their social evenings together. He hated seeing the hurt in Max’s eyes, along with the assumption that he too would back away and dissociate himself because Max was a Jew. He felt he had no choice. He wasn’t sure if he could keep his hands or his mouth to himself if he were alone with the young man.

The night after he’d told Max he wasn’t feeling well and called off their dinner engagement, Oskar could avoid himself no longer. He went out; he went to bars, and he drank more than he usually did - certainly, more than he should have to maintain any semblance of control. Drunk, angry and frustrated, he went into one of the private clubs he used to frequent, intent on a quick hard fuck and then stumbling home to an empty bed while he masturbated to thoughts of Max.

The interior was as dark and smoky as always. Dark because faces were not so important here, and it was better not to be seen. The smoke was a combination of Western tobacco, Asian clove, and cannabis, sometimes choking in its intensity but also serving to obscure faces.

He moved slowly through the crowd to the bar and ordered a drink he certainly did not need. Too much alcohol had aways taken him to a very dark place. As he tossed it back, his elbow jostled someone. He turned to apologize - and looked straight into the eyes of a very startled Max Liebermann.

“What the hell are you doing in this place? Are you lost, or doing some research on the degenerates?” Oskar demanded of him.

“I-I’m here for the same reason you are.”

“You think so. You think I’m on an investigation, or to observe? That’s not why I’m here, Doktor Liebermann.”

“It’s not why I’m here either.” Oskar’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Been here before then, have you?”

“Yes. Yes, I have actually.”

Oskar didn’t hear the nervousness in Max’s voice or recognize the ‘I do of course know what goes on here’ tilt of his chin, because he was used to hearing it and seeing it in a variety of situations. This time he didn’t stop to think of the significance. He had had it with Doktor Know-It-All Liebermann and his condescension and sarcasm, rarely taking anything seriously. He was teasing him just by standing there, no doubt expecting him to provide entertainment or a lead on ‘research.’

“So, let us both have our reasons satisfied then. No need to indulge in polite conventions, hm? Come!” Oskar demanded, an iron hand encircling Max’s wrist. He walked confidently to the back, leading him towards the rooms for discreet gentlemen. He stopped for a moment to hand over the fee and be given a key, then dragged Max to a room and opened it. He pushed him inside and locked the door.

If Oskar had stopped to regard his charge he would have seen that he was white as a sheet, and sweating in the unheated room. But then, Max’s aristocratic paleness, and the beautiful ice-blue eyes you could get lost in, were part of why Oskar was so attracted to him; he was simply beautiful, and quite different to Oskar’s own stocky swarthiness.

In this moment Oskar wanted no talk, only release in his fantasy; there wasn’t room for anything else. He pulled off Max’s suit coat and tossed it in the corner. His hands and mouth invaded beneath an expensive shirt and vest, buttons popping and thin fabric ripping until he could see and feel the body he’d imagined for so long.

Without his well-tailored clothing, Max was more boyishly slim and gangly than elegant. His body spoke of youth and innocence, yet he admitted to having been here before, so clearly he was not as innocent as he might appear. Oskar nipped and sucked his way down the long torso, his hands squeezing and pinching flesh and nipples, pulling at body hair as well as the hair on his head. He could hear gasps and moans from Max and registered them as sounds of pleasure.

He was quite hard; he needed nothing from Doktor Liebermann except his body. He unfastened Max’s trousers and pulled them down, quickly pulling his underwear down to his knees. He reached in a drawer for something to use to ease his way. Undoing his own trousers and releasing himself from the confines of his underwear, he pushed Max face down on the bed, placing him on his knees, his face into the mattress. Oskar spread the lotion around Max’s entrance and over his own angry cock, and in two attempts he was inside his fantasy. He heard a muffled cry from Max.

“So you’ll know where I’ve been, Herr Doktor,” he responded grimly. There was no sound except his grunts of effort and anger as he repeatedly thrust into the younger man. He gripped the body beneath him cruelly, wanting to bruise the flesh. How dare this privileged young upstart with the perpetual face of amusement at the cost of others come to this place - one of the few places in all of Vienna where he had been able to live his pain in privacy. Yet his climax was slow to arrive, and for all his anger and frustration, when it did happen, it did not amount to much. He felt disappointed, somehow. Vengeance, if that’s what it was, was not so sweet after all.

Max lay face down on the bed still as death, as if he was afraid to move. Oskar could hear his breathing as he spasmed loud gulps of air for a minute or two before he went completely silent. He tidied himself and fastened his trousers and still Max hadn’t moved. He was quite sober now, and observing Max on the bed, knowing his propensity for having others think he knew more than he did, Oskar began to have thoughts which, if true, would be horrifying. He reached out to turn Max over.

His face was very pale beneath its flush, and his face and hair were damp with sweat. He had bitten his lip deeply, and it ran with blood. Oskar began to get a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach - colder than any feeling he’d had since Mitzi died.

“You lied to me! You have never - my God, how could you _do_ that - you’ve made me into a rapist. DAMN you, Max!”

Before he could think, Oskar slapped him hard across the face. More blood poured from his mouth, and a trickle from his nose as well. Max curled on his side, away from the light and away from Oskar, and after that, did not move or make a sound.

As further realization of what he’d done - what he was still doing - hit him, Oskar could not breathe. He sat on the bed, trying to calm himself so that he could think of what to do for Max - If Max even wanted to be within a hundred yards of him any more. He rose and opened the door.

“Oskar!” The voice which came from the bed was low and plaintive. “Say whatever you must, I deserve it. Behave as you like, I deserve that too. Only please, please, _don’t go. Don’t leave me here like this, alone._ I couldn’t bear it. Please,” he began again.

Oskar leaned over and stroked his hair gently.

“I’m only going for a towel, and something to stop your bleeding. I won’t leave you alone, I promise.”

He came back with towels and antiseptic, and filled the wash basin to gently clean Max’s body of the evidence of his assault, wiped his face and stanched the bleeding from his nose and mouth. He dressed him, went out and came back with a shot of whiskey.

“Best that you sit up and toss this back, it will be hell on your lip,” Oskar advised. Max tried, but of course it did hurt terribly He wanted the whiskey more than he minded the pain at that point, however. 

“I can’t make this up to you, ever. But you should come home with me tonight. You can’t go home to your parents like this. Don’t worry, I won’t touch you. I will sleep on the sofa.”

“Oskar. I’m not afraid of you. I don’t blame you for this. It’s my fault.”

“Shit! It is _not_ your fault. I doubt Dr Freud would agree with you either.”

“May we perhaps discuss this later?” Max had begun to shiver. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to control-“

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Of course.”

“Max - “

“I don’t know.”

“That’s better. I’ll get a cab, and someone to help.”

Once in the cab, the familiar clip-clop of the horse’s hooves was soothing in the quiet streets. Max lay his head on Oskar’s shoulder, clasping his hand. Oskar sat in the dark cursing himself. How far had he sunk into despair, and what had it brought him to? How much pain had he caused this man who he realized he cared about very much. The only person who valued him for who he was, warts and all. Considerable warts, and a violent temper when drunk. He was a poor excuse for a man, never mind a representative of the law. Max deserved better.

Max was clearly in pain when getting out of the cab and into the house. Oskar guided him into the bedroom, stretched him out on the bed and covered him with the goosedown. He started a fire, sitting a brick wrapped in a rag near the grate. He brought more whiskey. As the room warmed and the alcohol took effect, Max’s shivering lessened. When at least the edge of his shock had worn off, Oskar began to remove his clothes. He winced and cursed himself at ugly bruises on pale flesh, teeth marks, and the bloody lip and nose.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered.

“I know. I know you’re sorry Oskar. I’ll be all right. Don’t punish yourself too harshly, please.”

“I deserve punishment. And I must grieve for what I’ve done to you, you must see that. You should not be so forgiving.” Oskar was consumed with self-loathing.

“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, do a lot of things. Say a lot of things. But you put up with them all.” Max smiled slightly. His voice was slurring a little.

You should try to sleep, Max, at least rest.” Oskar went to the fire and wrapped the now-hot brick in a thick towel. With Max on his stomach, Oskar placed the towel over his lower back and the top of his buttocks. Max gave a long moan of relief.

“Does that help?”

“Yessss.”

Oskar pulled the goosedown over him, turned the gas lamp very low, and was about to leave the room.

“Oskar.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t sleep on the sofa.”

“How can you want me near you now? I can’t.”

“You want to help me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then get into bed. I need you close. I need to hear your voice. Please. It’s what I want.”

Oskar shook his head, still not believing, but he removed his clothes and put on a nightshirt, then slipped into the bed. Without disturbing Max, he moved close enough so that their foreheads touched, curling his fingers around Max’s. Softly, he began to sing one of the _lieder_ they had played and sung together the week before. It was difficult because his throat kept tightening with emotion. Max made a soft sound and squeezed his hand.

**

In the cold light of morning, Oskar didn’t feel any better. When he thought of what he’d done he wanted to be sick. Max being Max, however, wanted to talk.

“We should have coffee, and I should send a note so that my parents don’t think I’m lying in a gutter somewhere.” He looked and sounded tired.

The note was written, and when Oskar went to give it to a neighbor boy to be delivered as soon as possible, he brought back fresh rolls and butter and made coffee.

“All right, you and your talking. Help me to understand you.”

Max nodded. He motioned for Oskar to sit beside him. Oskar still didn’t see how Max could want him so near after what he’d done, but again he did as he was asked. The sleek head dropped onto his shoulder, and as the night before, Max sought his hand. Someone actually wanting to hold his hand for comfort was not something he’d experienced since before Max was born.

“The life I was born into, as pleasant as it might seem, comes with expectations. It is a kind, loving cage. Do what’s expected and all will be well. My father, God bless him, is even willing for me to be a doctor and not his partner in the family business, if it will make me happy. That’s all they want, for us all to be happy and to do well.

“Being expelled from the hospital and a reputable living because I follow the teachings of a man who brings a new, untried and unproven science to the world. Living a shadowed half-life without a wife and children because I don’t want to marry. Those are things my family cannot understand. It’s lonely. I don’t control my own life. I don’t like it. It makes me reckless.”

“Like going to the club last night?”

Max nodded, leaning against Oskar so that the older man had to hold him closer in order for him to remain upright.

“Tell me about Clara and your broken engagement, and about Miss Lydgate. Tell me about why you have no wish to marry, and believe you will not have children.”

Max sighed, but he also chuckled softly.

“You would make a very good psychoanalyst, my friend.”

“When I was Daniel’s age and also in an academy, I had feelings for other boys. We did what boys will do under the circumstances of a boarding school. But whenever it was referred to at all, it was as a passing phase that boys grew out of when they married and became husbands and fathers. If it went beyond that - well, I’m sure you know very well what is said.

“I put it out of my mind. Well, I _tried_ to put it out of my mind, but it was still there, especially when I didn’t want it to be. Clara was..is..very beautiful. Kind and sweet. The perfect wife who would be the perfect mother and make a perfect home. My parents approve of her. I liked her. I felt at ease with her, more than I do with most women. I like women, and I like Clara, there is nothing not to like. But I don’t have feelings for them the way a man should. I tried to tell myself that I did. I wanted to have such feelings for her, but I didn’t and I knew it. Still I agreed to be engaged to her, and to marry her. It made our families happy. It made Clara happy. It didn’t especially,” Max sighed, “make _me_ happy, but I thought I would survive. Except….” He sighed again, and turned his face to Oskar’s. “Except that you had become part of my life, and you brought it all home to me, what it would mean if I married and was shut away in that sort of life.

Max’s voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. “From almost the moment we met, I sensed that whatever I was yearning for, you were its keeper. My uncertainty ended. Thoughts of Clara vanished. I don’t know what Amelia makes of me. I tried to transfer my love born of desperation from Clara to her. I admire her mind, and tried to convince myself I loved the whole woman, but I realized that the person I felt the most for in all ways was you, Oskar. I not only liked and respected you, but I had other feelings for you as well. From the beginning, I was yours,” he confessed.

“I couldn’t exactly tell you, now, could I?” Max shook his head. “I knew you didn’t even like me. And why should you? The spoiled son of a Jewish family who’d had everything handed to him on a silver plate all his life. Smart but sarcastic and condescending to hide his fear of having to navigate life in increasingly unfamiliar waters with no life raft. Why should you pay any attention to me? And I didn’t think you would be interested in me in the way I was interested in you, in any case. I had no hope of that, why would I? I was making myself very unhappy,” he sighed.

“Why did you go to the club?”

“It was true I’d been there before. I wanted to know, wanted to be sure of my nature. So I went to drink, and to talk and smoke with others. I knew fairly soon that I did indeed prefer the company of my fellow man. In my depression and my frustration about the broken engagement, my family’s disappointment, and believing I would never have what I wanted with you, I would go with other young, inexperienced men like me. We comforted each other.” Max’s voice was sad.

“But you hadn’t ever-“

“No. Not because I wouldn’t have eventually or didn’t want to, but simply because none of us knew enough or were brave enough to attempt it ourselves. When I saw you there - when I saw that you actually _wanted_ me in the very same way I wanted you, I wanted you to think I was as experienced as you needed me to be. I could have told you, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I could have stopped you even if I had told you, honestly. But make no mistake Oskar, I wanted it, no matter what. I thought it might be my only chance to be with you,” Max finished softly.

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, less guilty, it doesn’t,” Oskar groaned. “I _hurt_ you, Max. I would never, ever want to hurt you, but God help me I did. What is there inside of me that let me do that to you? I might do it again,” he groaned. “I’m not good for you.”

“You won’t. I know you won’t. It’s all gone, like the lancing of an abcess. It’s drained away now.” Max wriggled an arm about Oskar’s waist, pulling him closer.

“It doesn’t heal instantly, Max. It will take me some time. You didn’t understand what you were asking,” Oskar moaned. “I should never have-“

“And you had no way of knowing I was lying. I have a fault in what happened, Oskar. Please admit that.”

“You should not have lied to me. Your lie meant I caused you unnecessary pain,” Oskar acknowledged. “But I was still the one who hurt you.”

“All right,” Max nodded, with a small sigh. “If you want to give me something I need then hold me, and tell me why life has made you so angry. Share your burden with me,” he asked quietly. “Without judging yourself,” he added, “if you can.”

“You see, that’s why you make me crazy, make me want to smack you and kiss you at the same time,” Oskar shook his head with a short laugh. He lay down so he was no longer half-sitting but with his head on the pillow, cradling Max against him.

“Better?”

“Much better. Thank you,” Max breathed, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“You and your academy boys,” Oskar began, brushing back Max’s hair with his fingers, “ were not so different from me and the hoodlums I hung around with, starting when I was about twelve. We did whatever the older boys wanted - theft, arranging meetings with girls, whatever it was. Sex was part of it, the older boys with the younger ones. Except that while the others hated it, I didn’t.

“As I got older, as hard as my mother tried to keep me straight and make certain I stayed out of trouble and in school, I was sliding into a life of petty crime. Things would not have ended well for me. It was by chance that I met Helmut. He was perhaps twice my age. He took a liking to me - for my body, but for myself too. He saw something In me that I couldn’t see in myself. He encouraged me to study. I was infatuated with him, wanting to please him, and so I did. I graduated with high marks. It was because of him I was able to go to university.” Oskar stopped abruptly, his voice shaking.

“What happened to him?” Max asked softly, kissing the hand he held.

“He was ill. He told no one, least of all me. He had a brain tumor. He was only 32 years old when he died. He left enough money to me in his will for my schooling.”

“I think you mattered to him very much, if he wanted to do that for you.”

“Yes. I thought so too. But in my crazy, ignorant youth, I thought, I didn’t want to die young, like he did. I got the idea that maybe he’d got cancer because we had sex together. That because we were as we were, we were dooming ourselves to early death. It sounds ridiculous now, but I believed it then.

“I determined to do well in my studies, for his memory. And I also decided I must sleep only with girls. To my surprise, I found I could easily sleep with them. I had a good time, and they did, and it could be pleasant. If there was something missing, well I would just have to live with that because it would be worth it not to die.” Oskar gave a little laugh that had no humor in it.

“For years it went so. I graduated. Got a job as a recruit in the police force. No cancer. All I wanted. Life was good. I met Else at about the time I was promoted to sergeant. I truly fell in love with her, Max. We were good together, and happy. When Mitzi was born our happiness was complete.

“But when Mitzi got sick, everything started to come apart. We were not as close, as helpful to each other emotionally, as we were when things were going well. We tried, both of us, but the illness took a toll. Her death destroyed us. Else left me. It was so much a struggle, there were times I didn’t think I could bear it. I threw myself into my work..and back into quick trips to the club, when I wasn’t so depressed I couldn’t even get it up. By that time I was older and wiser and no longer feared death for having a quick _bumsen._

“After we had been married a few years, Else realized somehow. I had not been sleeping with anyone but her, yet she asked me the question and I answered her honestly. I told her that I was genuinely happy with her, but you never know if the other person will believe you, do you? So when Mitzi died, I think Else understood what neither of us would say.

“When she came back, I think she wanted to try again. I would have wanted to try again too. Except that by then you had come into my life. She heard Max this and Dr Liebermann that - and then she saw us together, and she knew. And I didn’t offer to give you up. Soon after that, she was gone again. I was sorry, but not sorry too.

“But with everything - Else, the last of Mitzi’s things gone, God-damned von Bulow, and wanting you so badly I could no longer get through our evenings and our talks without wanting to have you there on the floor - my frustration and anger, my grief, it all came together and I lost control when I saw you in that place. Alcohol didn’t help. But it was still my _fault!”_ Oskar moaned.

“But it wasn’t _all_ your fault, it was mine too. I’m not going to allow you to take this all on your shoulders, Oskar,” Max insisted, “because I care about you too much for you to keep reliving it believing that. The fault - the errors, the assumptions and bad decisions - belong to both of us. Hm?” he coaxed.

“All right. But the greater fault - “

“Oskar!”

“Yes, all right, all right,” Oskar gave in, smiling a little. “But what are we going to do now?”

“Well..I am a little tired. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a nap.” Max rested his head on Oskar’s chest, his right arm flung over his body.

“You are crazy,” Oskar protested softly, reaching to stroke Max’s hair.

“Is that your professional diagnosis, Doktor Rheinhardt?”

“It is.”

“Crazy for you.”

**

Max explained his injuries by saying he was mugged. His mother exclaimed over him and his father had looked doubtful, but it had passed. Since he’d been able to solve the problem of his nephew’s self-harming behavior, his sister’s normally sharp tongue had fallen mostly silent when it came to berating him. She saw him with new eyes, as a skilled doctor in his own right instead of just her black sheep younger brother.

Things between them moved slowly, as Oskar intended that they should. He insisted, to Max’s dismay. To go from being work colleagues and casual friends in previous daily life, whatever their private feelings about each other had been, to what had occurred at the club, even after the conversations which followed, was not good or natural. Their relationship should not be rushed.

Max knew his father would understand his need to live somewhere on his own, whether he was married or not. He also needed to begin to make his own way, to support himself. It made sense, moreover, that he might share a room in the house of Detective Rheinhardt since they worked together so frequently and kept long hours when they did. With Rheinhardt being a single man, it was not unusual that he would take in someone to room, and they were both business associates and friends. Even the police department could find nothing unusual in the arrangement. His father did offer to pay the rent on a consulting room, and Max accepted. He negotiated with his father to only continue with half of the monthly sum he’d been giving him. He wanted to wean himself from his father’s support, but he was some way from supporting himself in a comfortable manner. He did, however, feel guilty about all the lies. He loved and respected his father and would have been honest if he’d felt he could have been without destroying his relationship with his family.

**

Three weeks after Max had moved in, they had successfully concluded a case that had made von Bulow look like a complete fool. Leaving the office in high spirits, they stopped to have a good dinner in a secluded corner booth before going home. Over dessert and coffee, Max glanced up at Oskar through lowered, hopeful lids. The sweep of eyelashes on pale cheeks had the desired effect. He knew Max was flirting with him, coming on to him, and thought yes, this is a good time. The right time. He pressed his knee against Max’s under the table. Max started, but a slight smile crept onto his face.

“You’ll have your wish, my crazy Max,” Oskar rumbled, catching and holding his eye. He watched with amusement as a bright flush crept up from Max’s open shirt-neck to his hairline. “Two can play at this game, yes?”

“Yes, please,” Max huffed, squirming in his seat.

“It’s uncomfortable for you to sit? Are your trousers too tight? Poor Max. I myself could sit here another hour or two enjoying the music and the society. What about you?” Oskar’s low voice, something between the rumble of an engine and the purr of a big cat, did to Max what his fey look had done to the detective.

“In that case, I might be forced to ejaculate under the table,” Max grimaced. Oskar slid a hand into his lap and he squeaked in reaction.

“Do you need any help?”

“Oskar, _please._ ”

Taking pity, Oskar signaled for the check - and paid it before Max had the chance.

“I would have-“

“I know you would have, that’s why I paid. I am not a kept man, Doktor Liebermann.”

“Of course you’re not,” Max protested. “Do you think I think-“ Oskar smiled and gave his arm a squeeze.

“No, I don’t. It was a gesture. It was about tonight. Is that clear enough for you?”

“I..yes.”

“Does that suit you?”

“Yes.” Max barely breathed the word.

“I am not known for being a seducer, but I’ll give it my best.”

Max made an unintelligible sound and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

The cab ride was remembered for the most arousing kisses Max had yet experienced in memory, and the increasing tightness of his trousers. Tonight would be different than his previous experiences. This wouldn’t be just getting off with strangers, this would be Oskar, and he had little idea what to expect. He’d had sex with other inexperienced men, hardly more than mutual masturbation, but he’d never made love with an older, experienced partner, and had never been with someone he was in love with. He knew that Oskar didn’t yet understand or believe the depth of his feelings.

He was shivering with anticipation by the time they arrived home. He went straight into the bedroom and made to undress. Oskar, stopping to put a scoop of coal on the fire and light it, touched his arm.

“Stop with your jacket and shoes. I want to do the unwrapping.”

Max’s cold fingers became clumsy, unsure. After taking off his jacket he sat on the bed waiting, feeling awkward.

Finally, after removing his own jacket, Oskar turned his attention to his young lover. He sat on the bed and held Max’s face in his two hands. The kiss began as light, friendly almost, then slowly deepened into something both arousing and tender. Max held to Oskar’s torso to stay upright, dizzy and breathless, heart pounding.

“This,” Oskar rumbled, his left hand still cupping Max’s face, his right hand now trailing slowly down the slim body, “is not about having sex. Well, of course it _is,_ but it isn’t just that for me. I am making love to someone I care for. That’s what is in my mind, not coming as quickly as I can or having you do the same. This started off badly for you. I want to make it right tonight. The way our first time should have been. Hm?” he questioned softly.

“ ‘ess,” Max mouthed, eyes dilated in the dimly lit room. He closed his eyes as Oskar unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. Oskar’s hands took possession of him, tracing and exploring with a featherlight touch that had him shivering and groaning. Every place on his body that Oskar had savaged the night he’d assaulted him was treated very differently now.

“You have a beautiful body, Herr Doktor. I’d like to keep it for this evening if I may?” He bent and took a nipple in his mouth, tonguing it gently until Max was tossing and whimpering. He sucked, and Max arched up to his mouth, gasping, holding Oskar’s head to his chest.

“You like that?”

“Goddd.”

“I think that was yes. No one ever did that before?” Oskar ran his hand down the slim body, which was enticingly accented with silky black hair that disappeared below his waistband.

“Nnn.” Max tossed his head in a presumed no. Oskar’s hand slipped beneath the waistband and found what he sought. Max whimpered as if he were in pain, and Oskar found him to be very hard. He undid the trouser buttons and freed his cock, barely able to grasp it and pull once before Max exploded over his fist, his own trousers, and his belly. Max turned his face away and muttered an expletive Oskar didn’t quite catch.

Quietly, Oskar finished undressing him, speaking as he did so.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Max. I suspected it might happen. Now, you can enjoy yourself,” he smiled lightly, cleaning Max off with a towel.

“What do you mean? I’ve ruined everything.” At this, Oskar laughed.

“Foolish man. You will be ready again long before I ever would. At my age, once a night is the usual, and again in the morning perhaps, but you - young men recover very quickly.”

Max was glad Oskar had said foolish man and not boy. He was a man in years certainly, but with his upbringing and the expectation that he would one day marry a virgin, Max didn’t know as much as he should, for all that he was a doctor. It was embarrassing, but Oskar was trying to make it less so.

“I want to take your clothes off,” he whispered. “May I?”

Well, it had to come some time, Oskar thought.

“It is not as pretty a sight as you are, sweet Max, but if you must, I’m yours.” He held his arms out to his sides in surrender. He was shorter than Max, stocky with a middle-aged paunch and had never been good-looking. It had been about twelve years since he’d been in decent shape. He only hoped Max didn’t find him repugnant.

As the shirt came off and Oskar sat before him exposed emotionally as well as physcally, Max smiled in delight and put out his hands to touch. Oskar’s chest was well-furred with profuse whorls and swirls of thick hair, and Max seemed fascinated by the reality of having not just a random lover but Oskar there to touch. He leaned forward to press his face into the inviting forest, inhaling, rubbing his nose into it before he pulled Oskar to him so that their bodies touched. Arms around his lover’s back, Max rubbed himself against Oskar like a cat, making soft sounds of satisfaction.

“I’m in heaven when you touch me, kiss me. You didn’t know that, did you? But I didn’t expect… The sight of you, the smell of you. Your body, your skin. Your voice. You bewitch me,” Max breathed. “You smell so good.” Oskar snorted in disbelief.

“You smell like you,” Max persisted. “My Oskar. It makes me very aroused, your scent,” he confessed. Needing to maintain a physical connection, his hands and mouth caressed Oskar without restraint. This was the person he loved, who was half-naked in his arms with no physical barriers between them, and he was going to have his fill tonight.

To Oskar, Max not only smelled like Max, he also genuinely smelled good in an esthetic sense, while he knew he did not by any stretch. He understood what Max meant of course, knew the powerful emotions and effects on the body a lover’s scent could have. He would still remember Helmut’s scent, he was sure.

Max’s fingers were a bit clumsy at the fastening of his trousers, but Oskar didn’t help him. If it took a minute or two longer, the end result was the same and he was not as quick to come as his younger lover. 

Once naked, Max pulled Oskar hard against him, clutching his ass to urge him down, to bring their cocks into contact. He spread his legs and clasped them over Oskar’s back, rocking up against him, half-moaning, half growling in his eagerness. Oskar had been right; he was close to hard again.

Oskar obliged, rocking and thrusting while his kisses demonstrated a fierceness that further inflamed the younger man.

“You arouse me too,” he smiled, reaching between them to stroke Max. They stimulated each other with passion-infused tenderness. They began to learn each other’s bodies. Max felt a special pleasure in knowing he could do something that drove Oskar as wild as Oskar drove him.

Ultimately at Oskar’s direction they sat facing each other with their legs bent and curved around each other. Oskar brought Max’s erect cock into contact with his equally erect organ, holding them both in one hand, spreading the wetness oozing from both of them down the length of the shafts.

“You might want to help me a little here,” he rasped, placing his hand over Max’s, encouraging him. Both of them were close, and this would be an intimate finish. Max watched his cock’s issue mingle with Oskar’s, moaning at the exquisite sensitivity of the two organs stimulating each other.

“Oskar,” he whispered, “I love you.”

Oskar gasped and groaned, and erupted within seconds. In another few moments, Oskar sucked him to completion and Max felt he’d had a glimpse of heaven.

Max felt boneless, more relaxed and content than he ever remembered feeling. He was still, perhaps an hour later, unable to rouse himself to do more than cling to Oskar. He’d said little. As before, Oskar had been the one to clean them both, and to make the bed fit for sleeping. He too had been fairly silent. Now, he brought Max a glass of whiskey. Max sipped at it for a few minutes before he spoke.

“Is this how it is when two people are meant to be together?” he asked. “You want to do it again, and again, because you can’t imagine living without it,” he smiled, snuggling against Oskar’s shoulder.

“Yes. That’s how it is,” Oskar agreed,” stroking Max’s hair and face. He could only think of Max’s “I love you.” He wanted to tell Max he loved him, but there were too many things that could happen to force them apart. He couldn’t bring himself to say it yet, even though he felt the same. He felt bad about not being able to reassure Max with those words.

“Next time, will we…? I want to, Oskar. Really, I do. Please?”

Oskar groaned inwardly.

“It’s not something to only check off a list, my sweet, eager Max. It shouldn’t be something only to be accomplished, to be gotten over with. Between most men there is trust involved, usually a great deal of trust. The first time for any man it isn’t some simple, casual thing. Preparations must be made, it isn’t so random as you might suppose. And for us it is about me, too. What happened at the club... If I don’t feel comfortable, if it isn’t the right time for _me,_ I might not be able to do it. My body might not be able to. I’m too afraid of hurting you again. The memory haunts me,” Oskar admitted. “So I ask you to be patient with me, and understanding.”

Max looked at him in anguish. His thoughtless behavior had severely disturbed the person he loved, and was affecting him still. He knew better than to bring up fault. He tried to think of what to say.

“Oskar, I’m so sorry. I know, I know you don’t want me to take any blame, but I want you to know, you have to know, how sorry I am. I would never want to hurt you for anything in the world. I will be patient. I will wait,” he promised.

Oskar looked into the beautiful pale eyes, the color of a stormy blue-gray sea, and almost regretted what he’d said. Yet he needed honesty between them above all, and being honest with Max would encourage him to be honest as well, even when it was difficult. The relationship had to be about both of them.

“It isn’t necessary, you know. If it isn’t something you want, it doesn’t have to be a part of our life together. Is your eagerness because you think it’s something I want, that will please me?” he asked gently. Max looked down, not meeting his eyes.

“Some. I know it’s something most men-“

“But not every one.”

“No,” Max agreed.

“So, can you tell me why?”

Max flushed. He murmured “Because I know it would make me feel even closer to you. I want you to be part of me. For you to give me something of yourself. Is that wrong? If I said it badly, I’m sorry,” he sighed.

Oskar’s eyes threatened to fill. “You have said it perfectly,” he purred softly. _“Mein Engel._ It will happen,” he assured Max, holding him to his chest, playing gently with his hair.

**

As days and weeks passed, they became comfortable with each other in all the ways couples must. Eating, sleeping, preparing for work. Arguing. How to spend their leisure time. Cases came and went. Max was more confident in every way now, and with his increased confidence Oskar noted that his condescending manner with others, and what remained of it with him, had nearly vanished. It had been a way of dealing with his insecurity. The more secure he felt, the less he needed it.

Max was affectionately clingy in private. If it had disconcerted Oskar at first, increasingly it warmed his heart. Max unashamedly sought physical affection from him. Probably, Oskar reasoned, because he had ceased getting it the way he had when he was a child. Some would miss it a great deal and some would hardly notice. Max was simply a loving person. The idea had taken some getting used to by Oskar, but the more he was exposed to it the more endearing he found it and the more easily he reciprocated. Max no longer needed to be the instigator all the time, and when Oskar was on the receiving end he found it relaxed him in a new way and brought him closer to Max. He could learn to appreciate something new.

They were sitting with cigars and brandy after a late supper. Oskar was tired, half asleep. He hoped to go to bed soon. Max sat at his feet, his head resting against Max’s knee.

“Oskar - I’ve had a message from my father. He wants to have lunch tomorrow - with both of us.”

“Both of us?” Oskar frowned.

“Yes. It makes me uneasy.”

“I can see why it might. Did he give you any hint of why?”

“No, and that’s what worries me. He always has.”

“Well, we must go, that’s sure.”

“I know. I just..nothing will take me away from you. Nothing,” Max vowed fiercely, wrapping his arms about Oskar’s knee.

“Don’t borrow trouble.”

“But that’s what I do, Oskar. It’s a part of me.”

“Not one of your more cheerful traits. So, stop it for now and let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

**

The café was bustling, as usual. His father had secured a booth in a less desirable aspect of the room, with few occupied tables around them. Better, Oskar saw immediately, for private conversations. Mendel Liebermann was affable, asking how the police business was going, their consulting, and how they found sharing a house. He gave nothing away, though he didn’t seem upset. After a few minutes of looking over the menu and ordering, Max was sweating.

“Father. Why - “ he began. His father gave him a gently chastising look.

“Lunch first, Maxim. Business after.”

Max sighed. At least, his father didn’t seem upset with him, or with Oskar. They had an excellent lunch, during which his father filled them in on family doings. Rachel had a suitor, a widower called Benjamin Adler. Daniel liked him, and things were looking promising.

After their plates had been removed and they were having coffee and cigars, Max’s father spoke.

“I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve asked you to lunch, so - Maxim, your family misses you. We would like to see you more often, and you as well Herr Rheinhardt.” Oskar’s eyebrows shot up.

“Maxim, I know the nature of your relationship.” Max’s face turned very white. Liebermann signaled for some brandy and waited until Max had drunk some before he continued.

“You haven’t seen him since you were a child, but do you remember your Uncle Levi? You were perhaps ten years old when we were all together as a family, I think. He went to America soon after with his _Man._ ”

Max choked on the brandy, coughing so hard Oskar had to slap him on the back. He looked at his father with a combination of shock and amusement.

“Papa,” he gasped, trying to regain a semblance of composure.

“What does that word mean?” Oskar asked quietly. He knew it must be Yiddish.

“It means,” Max wheezed, “husband. My father knows why we share a house, Oskar. Apparently my father’s brother was..as we are.”

“Ah.” Oskar’s face was carefully expressionless.

“Yes, I remember him. I liked him. You were close, I think?”

Mendel Liebermann smiled. “Yes, we were. We would be still, if he would write more often. But I know how it is with writing, you mean to do it but you can’t quite seem to find the time. I only hope that things are going well for them, Levi and Avram.”

“You didn’t mind? And..the family knew? Mama knew?” Max was having trouble thinking about that, imagining it.

“Your grandpa Abraham wanted to disown him. Me, no. He is my brother and I love him, whoever he is. As you are my son, whom I love most dearly.” Liebermann put his hand over his son’s. “Yes, your mama knows. She is not so thrilled, but not so harsh as my father. And she knew I loved him, so… As she loves you, Maxim. Even your sister loves you, if she will not show it, eh?

“You are welcome in our home - both of you. We miss you and we want to see you. We are a safe place, Max. Herr Rheinhardt.”

Oskar couldn’t believe his ears. All he’d known until now of Max’s father he liked, but this - it was a very rare thing being offered to them. Max, having grown up in a loving family, might not realize how precious it was.

“Please, call me Oscar. I would be honored to visit with Max, Herr Liebermann,” he acknowledged. “Thank you for what you offer us.” He extended his hand, and Liebermann shook it.

Max was still in a bit of shock.

“Papa, I can’t begin to - “ he choked. “I have disappointed you by not joining in your business. I have been expelled from the hospital. You don’t approve of Professor Freud’s ideas. I must be a constant disappointment to you, and yet you do this.” He shook his head, gazing at his father with moisture in his eyes.

“Maxim you are a good, kind, loving son. We all would like things to work a certain way for us, we have our hopes and dreams. But you are my son and I love you. I want you to be happy, and secure. Your mother would appreciate more grandchildren, but still -“ He laughed, and at that last so did Max.

“Thank you. More than I can say.”

“Your eyes speak very well.”

“They’re your eyes, you know,” Max reminded him, referring to the color.

“So they are.”

“May the son be as wise as the father,” Oskar interjected softly.

“A father may not be his son’s only teacher. Look after him, Oskar.”

‘He does’ and ‘I do’ came from both Max and Oskar simultaneously. They all laughed, but emotions were running high. It was decided that they would come to dinner a week from Sunday.

The cab ride home was largely silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Fear was gone, replaced by hope. They held hands as always, but it was Oskar who lay his head on Max’s shoulder. He could let go a little. Someone else was also looking out for them now. It had been a burden he’d carried throughout most of his life, having to look out for himself. He also took looking after Max very seriously. That the burden might be shared was unexpected, and sweet.

They brought out the brandy and sat beside the fire, enjoying each other’s company in the darkened room.

“Unbelievable,” Max exclaimed in wonder. “I don’t think my father could have surprised me more. It was the last thing I might have ever thought he’d do.”

“Families who love each other are a gift, Max. Since you’ve always had one, it’s easy to forget. To know that there is another person - other people, who are there if we need them… I have never had such a thing. It makes a difference. It makes you braver than you were. What your father has offered us is worth more than gold. It is arms of protection and love. He is an amazing man. God bless him,” Oskar saluted.

Max picked up his glass. “To Mendel Liebermann,” he toasted softly, touching his glass to Oskar’s. “And to Uncle Levi.”

In due course and by unspoken agreement they both rose and went into the bedroom. There was no hurry; their enjoyment was in the now-familiar rhythm they made between them of tenderness and comfortable passion. As it always did, the sight, and the feel of Oskar’s body against his, Oskar’s hands and mouth loving him, inflamed Max. There was something new tonight, however. The hands and the fingers touched him, gently, in a place they had not before. When he realized, his heart skipped a beat. He would do nothing, above all say nothing that might put Oskar off.

He did not expect to feel Oskar’s tongue there, lightly teasing, even invading him. He felt the soft brush of Oskar’s beard and a loud moan escaped him.

“All right?”

“Don’t stop,” Max managed.

Oskar continued for some minutes as Max whimpered and gasped at how good it felt. When he pressed a well-lubricated finger gently past the muscle, Max couldn’t help tensing a little.

“Breathe slowly. Try to relax, mm?” Oskar’s voice soothed him. He concentrated on it, and on accepting Oskar. Soon, he was comfortable with the slow in-and-out movement and he actually was able to relax a little. As Oskar continued preparing him there was discomfort, and even a little pain, but it wasn’t like what had happened before. He wasn’t afraid or in shock this time, and any discomfort was tempered by Oskar’s caresses and his equal attention to Max’s cock.

 _“Mein süßer Max._ My sweet Max,” he whispered. 

Max felt himself being opened, and this time not with fingers or tongue but something that was much larger. He whimpered softly.

“Don’t fight. Try to let go. If it’s too much I’ll stop, you only have to say,” Oskar reassured him.

It did hurt, as gentle and careful as Oskar was. But it still wasn’t like before, and eventually it got better. It became pleasurable, and he did relax into it. The in-and-out of Oskar’s cock became a new rhythm to become accustomed to and share.

Oskar’s movements became faster, and Max could tell by the sounds he was making that he was close to coming. As for himself, he was moaning constantly. Oskar had to know they were sounds of desire and need, not pain. Even Max had learned to hear the difference.

Oskar groaned, thrusting faster. Taking his own cock in hand, Max attempted to match strokes with Oskar’s thrusts. Oskar shuddered and thrust deep inside him, crying out softly as he came. He lowered himself slowly against Max’s back, panting, grasped his cock, and brought him to his finish.

They lay gasping for air, neither of them willing to move. After several minutes, Oskar rolled towards Max and lay his head on Max’s chest.

“My beautiful Max,” he sighed. Thank you.” He was silent again, and then - “ _Ich liebe dich._ I love you. I love you,” he choked. “I know you wondered why I didn’t say it when it came to your lips so easily, or so it seemed to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel it, always. I just couldn’t say it. I lacked the courage.

“I had to _know,_ Max, beyond doubt, before I could say it to you. Not just the emotion I felt, but that we could be possible together, that no great obstacle would rip us apart just as I would give you my heart. I’ve been disappointed and hurt too many times. I didn’t doubt you so much as I doubted the kindness and mercy of God for men like us. If I loved you and Fate and God conspired to separate us, you would recover but I would not. I’m too old to go through such a loss again. But if I didn’t say the words, you have held my heart for a long time. Yes, _mein Schatz,_ I love you. Don’t doubt it,” Oskar smiled, leaning over for a kiss. “And since I’m beginning to know how your mind works - telling you now has nothing to do with what we just did. It was this afternoon with your father, letting us know we’re not alone. If things ever look impossible, there will be hope - you see? I needed that hope, Max. I’m sorry. It was only my worry, never you.”

“I did wonder,” Max admitted, slipping his fingers through Oskar’s hair, petting softly. “I’m glad you told me. I do understand. Being alone most of your life must be very frightening. But you’re not,” he murmured, “alone any more.”

“No, I’m not,” Oskar agreed with a contented sigh.

After a few minutes, Max slipped out from under Oskar and got up silently. He put a scoop of coal in the grate, then poured water into the basin and washed himself. Pouring fresh water, he brought the basin to the bed and did the same for Oskar. It was no longer Oskar’s role to be the only caregiver for the two of them. Oskar smiled up at him with recognition.

“Max, I think this means you are..I’ll probably say it wrong, or I’ve got it wrong, forgive me - a _mentsh?_ “

“Oskar,” he breathed, moisture filling his eyes. Max hugged him tightly.

The word was part of something that he had felt from Oskar since the beginning, and it said several things at once. Oskar cared about communicating emotions to him in the language of his family’s roots. The wealthy Jews of Vienna had left their ancestors’ language behind in order to separate themselves from the poorer of their people and to assimilate in Austrian society. Yet it was still the language of their heart and most of them knew it at least a little even if they didn’t speak it outside their homes. It was still a part of their identity as a people. Oskar had never cared that he was a Jew, and had never cared what anyone thought of their association. He liked and respected Max’s father. He honored Max, his family, and of course, how Max had grown and matured as a man, ultimately understanding that education and wealth didn’t make you smarter or superior, it only meant you’d had more opportunities in life than the next man.

“Thank you, _meyn man,”_ he whispered. “Perhaps I am, thanks to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title, Meyn Man, is Yiddish for My Husband. The German endearments are pretty recognizable.


End file.
